


For Fear of Never Lying in This Bed

by pennysparkle



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparkle/pseuds/pennysparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine at night. Adachi didn't know why they still had to be here at nine at night, day after day, when it wasn't like they were making progress on the case anyway (much to his own delight). He could have been home with a beer in his hand and takeout on the table, but instead, he was here. And it wasn't that he hated spending time with Dojima—rather the opposite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Fear of Never Lying in This Bed

**Author's Note:**

> [Jack](http://milesupshur.tumblr.com) and I are doing a week of P4 prompts! Today's was "erotic."

Nine at night. Adachi didn't know why they still had to be here at  _nine at night_ , day after day, when it wasn't like they were making progress on the case anyway (much to his own delight). He could have been home with a beer in his hand and takeout on the table, but instead, he was here. And it wasn't that he  _hated_ spending time with Dojima—rather the opposite.

It was just that it got hard wanting, sometimes. Day in and day out, hour by hour in his presence, hearing each little comment that smashed a tiny part of the illusion that someday, just maybe, Dojima could want more from him. Putting up with that wore on Adachi, as did the effort spent burying it deep so that it couldn't hurt him.

"Adachi, are you even paying attention?" Dojima asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly. There was the implication there that he'd asked something at least a couple times now.

But of course Adachi hadn't been listening. He'd definitely just been staring at Dojima—not that he could admit that. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, sir!"

Dojima sighed. Such an answer had apparently not been enough to satisfy him. "You're more useless than usual tonight. Something you need to talk about?"

"Wha...? No! I'm just doing my job!" Even though he was decidedly  _not_ ; the stack of papers in front of him was just as high as it had been at the beginning of the night, and Dojima probably knew it.

"Then get back to it, and you'd  _better_ have gotten somewhere by the time I'm done finding this file."

"Yeah, definitely, sir!" said Adachi. He was probably just going to get back to his busy schedule of slacking off, but that was for his future self to be yelled at about, not him. In the meantime, he was finding some entertainment by watching Dojima head for one of the filing cabinets along the back wall.

He pulled one tightly-packed drawer open with a grunt, then bent his head to search inside. It was a nice view to be distracted by—the lean line of Dojima's back and the way the fabric of his shirt formed perfectly to it. Adachi could watch this for a while, the way Dojima would shift and sigh, then straighten up for a second to scan through a folder before grunting and replacing it, then going back to searching.

At least four times he repeated this process before he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his collar as he turned to check on Adachi. With barely a moment to spare, he realized he hadn't actually been doing anything  _but_ staring, and hurriedly picked up a pen to try and cover himself.

"Looks like it's going well over there, Adachi," Dojima said, equal parts irritated and sarcastic.

"Yeah, sir! It's going great!" he promised, even though his eyes kept flicking down to examine the bits of neck and chest that peeked through his unbuttoned shirt. Definitely better than work.

Dojima frowned at him, then stretched his arms upward and yawned tiredly. He probably  _did_ need to go home and sleep, but Adachi was greedy. Another minute spent with him when they were alone was not at all something to complain about.

"I'm going into the back room to find this thing..." Dojima said after a few more minutes of crouched pursuit (which had been a nice change of pace from the chest view for a little while). "And I'm serious, Adachi. No more slacking. Or you can stay here all night instead."

With a stern look, he turned and went for the hallway, leaving Adachi alone. He even managed to stay at his desk and work for a record-setting ten minutes before he stood and made his way to the bathroom. This was totally fine, right? People had to take bathroom breaks. It was fine.

But the first thing he did when he'd entered a stall and undone his pants was to wrap his hand around his cock, a little bit hard already just from watching Dojima. He wondered what it'd be like, if he were to walk back here right now and hear Adachi, if he knocked on the stall door and Adachi let him in, let him  _see_ him like this. For one thing, he knew it meant he watched too much porn—for another, he knew it'd never happen.

So he had to make do with his imagination, lip bitten between his teeth as he touched himself, coaxing himself toward full hardness. He'd have to do it quickly, but that was never exactly a problem in the first place. Besides, all he could see in his mind's eye was Dojima caging him in, the triangle of exposed chest tantalizingly near until it disappeared and he pinned Adachi up against the wall. He was just a little bit taller than Adachi, but he was still broader and stronger, and the thought excited him, made a quake run through his legs that had him leaning against the wall harder in compliance with the image in his head.

Most of the time, he'd rather have found a cute girl with nice tits and a good body, and he didn't necessarily think it was Dojima's appearance that drew him in... but imagining it now made Adachi's body hot, his breaths quickening as he started to jerk himself off with complete focus, the rare sight of skin revealed prime in his mind—and the way he rolled his sleeves up, too... that was a good thought.

What would it be like to have Dojima's broad hands on his hips, the tendons of his wrists shifting with each of his movements, to have him arching up and moaning as Adachi rode him? It was hard to think of, knowing that he'd probably never get it, but he didn't feel guilty at all for fantasizing, fingers slipping back to grip the flesh of his hips and thighs the way he imagined Dojima might.

Would he be rough? Adachi liked to think so. He liked to imagine that he could rile him up until he tossed Adachi on his back across the desk, fingers pulling and grabbing at him roughly with so little care for whether or not it might hurt him. That seemed as though it would satisfy some intimate craving inside of him. And he liked to imagine that Dojima would hold him down, leave marks, clutch his hips and slam into him until all Adachi could do was beg him to slow down even as he wanted more, even as he came just from being full—

Outside of the fantasy, he came just as abruptly, stifling a moan and arching his hips up into his hand as he stroked himself a few last times, come streaked over the opposing wall. He'd have to clean it up... didn't want Dojima to come in here and realize what he'd been up to. That'd just get him deeper in trouble than he always was as a baseline.

He was left alone with the reality of this. There was no Dojima. Nothing but his hand and the bathroom at the station—not at all ideal. He huffed and pushed away from the wall, hurrying to tidy himself up and tuck his clothes back into place. Coming down always made him wish he'd never done this to start with, but he held it together as he walked out of the bathroom.

Dojima was back already, sitting at his desk scanning through a file with his legs kicked up. The sight of him made Adachi  _want_ , so intensely that he wondered how he could ever pretend like nothing was wrong, like the thought of being without Dojima didn't make him want to claw, hurt, and destroy.

"Get back to it, Adachi. I'd like to see my kid and my nephew tonight," he said without glancing up.

His  _nephew_. Adachi very nearly sneered, because it covered up the part of himself that desperately wished Dojima would think of him more instead, but as he took his seat, it was with a feeling of emptiness inside.

He picked up his pen, looking at the pile of paperwork in front of himself blanky. In the end, this was why it was so much  _easier_ to just stay away from people. And he felt foolish for being roped in in the first place. Want was all well and good; desire just killed, rotting from the inside out, and so much of him had been taken by it already.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://bunansa.tumblr.com)


End file.
